The Lions of Lucerne

by Brad Thor

  “Which of course you borrowed, steamed open, copied the contents of, and then replaced.”

  “You’re very smart. Yes, I made copies of the contents. It held his passport, canceled train tickets, and credit card receipts. They showed that he had been in Greece, Italy, and France before returning home.”

  “Was he out of the country during the time of President Rutledge’s kidnapping?”

  “Yes, but according to the stamps in his passport, he was in Europe, not America.”

  “Of course not. That would be too obvious. What’s the connection with the cousin in Hochdorf?”

  “I don’t know. I’m hoping he will tell us. Who else would send Miner a package from Hochdorf if not his cousin? My files show he’s the only relative Miner has there. It has to be the cousin. Miner wouldn’t go up to Hochdorf just to mail himself a package.”

  “What if he left it there while visiting and the cousin just mailed it back to him?”

  “And what were you saying about going with your gut? At this point, this is all we have to go on.”

  An hour outside Lucerne, Claudia pulled into a rest area.

  “I need to call the office and let them know I won’t be in.”

  “Don’t forget to see if you can get someone to look a bit deeper into Miner’s file to see if there are any links between him and Yugoslavia.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Scot got out of the car and stretched his legs while Claudia went inside to use the phone.

  At a pay phone by the washrooms, she inserted her telephone card and dialed her office.

  “Christina, hello. It’s Claudia. I’m not going to be in today; I have some outside work to do. Do I have any messages, please?”

  “Herr Schnell has been looking everywhere for you. Hold a moment. I will connect you.”

  Schnell? What could he possibly want? she wondered.

  Ten seconds later a gruff voice roughened from years of cigarette smoke was on the line. “Where are you?”

  “Good morning, Herr Schnell,” Claudia politely replied.

  “Don’t good morning me. Where are you?”

  “Why, what’s going on?”

  “Where were you on Saturday?”

  “I was pursuing leads in my case.”

  “Where was that?”

  “The Jungfrau area.”

  “And did you stay at your parents’ farm in Grindelwald?”

  “Yes, but—”

  He cut her off. “And where were you all day Sunday and Sunday evening until now?”

  Claudia was getting very suspicious. He couldn’t possibly know already that she had been in his house. She wanted to explain things to him, but decided she wouldn’t give out any more information until she had some of her own. “I was with a friend.” Quickly, before Herr Schnell could fire off another question, she asked one of her own. “What is this all about?”

  “What this is all about is that for the longest time I couldn’t understand why you were not making any progress on the weapons case.”

  “It has been extremely difficult. There are not many leads.”

  “I spoke with Arianne Küess in the Hague. She had some very interesting things to say about you.”

  “About me?” Claudia had no idea where this was going.

  “She says you volunteered for this case.”

  “That is correct, but I don’t understand—”

  “So, you don’t deny it?”

  “No, of course not. Herr Schnell, I must respectfully insist that you get to the point.”

  He did. They had a brief exchange of words, and when Schnell was finished speaking, all Claudia could do was set the phone down and walk back out to the car stunned.

  Scot sensed something was wrong right away. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  Claudia started the car and backed out of their parking space faster than safe driving dictated.

  “Claudia, hold it a second. What’s wrong?”

  She gripped the steering wheel with all of her might as if somehow it could purge the anger from her body. “Yesterday, the police raided my parents’ farm in Grindelwald.”

  “Raided? What happened? Are they okay?”

  “Physically, I’m sure they’re fine, but they are probably very shaken. They are much too old for this.”

  “For what? Why were the police there?”

  “They had an anonymous tip.”

  “Tip about what?”

  “After a thorough search of the barn, the police found two ADATS.”

  “ADATS? As in Swiss antitank missiles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me guess. The serial numbers on the missiles—”

  “Match the ones that were stolen from the weapons depot outside Basel.”

  “Claudia, I don’t know what to say.”

  “I do. Someone is going to pay.”

  64

  Even though she was stunned, Claudia had still been able to think on her feet. If Deputy Federal Attorney Urs Schnell hoped to have any sort of future with the Bundesanwaltshaft, the last thing he needed was a scandal that would engulf his entire office on his very first big case. Seeing the logic of Claudia’s argument and trusting her promise that she would not go to the press, Schnell agreed to give her forty-eight hours before turning herself in. She assured him she would have answers by then. If only she could assure herself of the same thing.

  “I never did like anonymous tips. They always smell bad,” said Scot.

  “From what I can tell, I don’t think my boss likes them either and that’s why he agreed to hold everything for forty-eight hours.”

  “That and the fact that he doesn’t want a scandal on his hands.”

  “There’ll be a scandal, all right, but it won’t involve me or my office. It’s going to have to do with Swiss intelligence and Gerhard Miner.”

  “Well, you better do some fast thinking. You’ve only got forty-eight hours.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Me? I have no idea how much time I have left. You forget, there are people with guns looking for me.”

  “I’m not convinced the shooters in the Ice Palace weren’t there for me as well. Someone might have seen me putting your letter back into the post office box after I made a copy of it.”

  “Don’t tell me we’re actually going to fight over who’s going to die first?”

  “No. We need to be serious. Why were the weapons planted in my family’s barn?”

  “That one’s easy. You’re getting too close to the truth.”

  “We both are, and the closer we get the less time we have.”

  Before driving into the village of Hochdorf, Claudia explained to Scot that she would need to question Miner’s cousin in German. Harvath would not be able to open his mouth, but his silence would make him very intimidating. Kind of a Swiss spin on good cop, bad cop.

  Wilhelm Schroeppel Carpentry was not hard to find. Claudia parked her Volkswagen across the street, and they entered the small shop. A set of diminutive cowbells rang above the door, announcing their presence. They looked around the showroom as they waited for the shopkeeper to come up front. Harvath traced his finger across one of the shelves and lifted it up to show Claudia the dust.

  “Not much of a housekeeper, I’m afraid,” came a voice in German. Harvath and Claudia looked up to see a tall, handsome man with gray hair and a fading tan appear from the back wearing an apron. Claudia was immediately struck by how much he looked like Miner.

  “I have just returned from vacation and haven’t gotten caught up with my housework,” he said.

  “Vacation?” said Claudia. “That sounds nice. Where did you go?”

  “Southern Europe.”

  “Really? Where exactly? I love southern Europe.”

  “I was in Greece for a bit.”

  “Greece. Now, that’s a nice spot. How long were you gone?”

  “A little bit. I’m sorry, but can I help you with something? I’m quite
busy today.”

  “I hope you can,” said Claudia presenting her credentials. “I’m Claudia Mueller, and this is HansPeter Sampras. We’re from the Bundesanwaltschaft, the investigative affairs division, the Bundespolizei.”

  “The Bundespolizei? What do you want with me? I haven’t done anything.”

  The man was obviously nervous.

  “Let’s talk about your recent vacation,” said Claudia. “Did you go anywhere else besides Greece?”

  Schroeppel might have been nervous, but he wasn’t stupid. Why hadn’t Gerhard warned him about the possibility that this might happen? Was it his fault? He had done everything his cousin had told him to, right down to the very last detail except…the package. Miner had told him to mail it when he changed trains in Bern, but Schroeppel had desperately wanted a coffee and to buy some cigarettes. It wasn’t until he had boarded his new train that he realized he had forgotten to mail the package, so he sent it from Hochdorf when he got home.

  He’d talk to the Bundespolizei and then call Gerhard and let him know what took place. Gerhard would be able to fix it. He could do anything. There was nothing he needed to worry about; after all, he had been on an official state mission helping his cousin and, in his own small way, his country. The Bundespolizei were just too stupid to know it. They were messing with the wrong family. When he called Gerhard, though, he would conveniently forget to mention that he had not mailed the package from Bern as he was instructed.

  “No, just Greece,” he said. “Everything else is too expensive.”

  “I see,” replied Claudia. “So, just Greece.”

  “Yes.” The man eyed the woman’s silent partner nervously.

  “And of course, your passport will show the appropriate stamps for this vacation?”

  “May I ask what this is regarding?”

  “This is just a routine investigation, Herr Schroeppel. It’s nothing for you to be concerned about. Would you be so kind as to show us your passport?”

  “I would be happy to, but first I would like to see your warrant.”

  “Surely, Herr Schroeppel, you don’t have anything to hide and don’t wish to complicate our investigation. If you would be so kind as to show us the passport, we will be on our way.”

  “I think maybe I would like to call my attorney first.”

  “Why would you need an attorney?”

  “If the Bundespolizei came to your place of business and asked for your passport without an explanation, wouldn’t you want to call your attorney? I work hard and mind my own affairs. The last time I checked the federal constitution, Switzerland was still a democracy. I don’t much care for you, or your questions. Until such time as you obtain a warrant, I suggest you leave me alone. Good day.”

  Claudia was stumped. He had her. What could she do, put a gun to his head and demand to see his passport? She had nothing, but felt the need to leave him with something that would diminish his superior attitude.

  “Herr Schroeppel, one more question before I go. You look quite similar to your cousin, Herr Miner. I know him. The resemblance is uncanny. I will be back and I will have a warrant for your passport. While I am at it, I will get one for his too. You were both on vacation lately, and something tells me comparing your two passports is going to be quite interesting. Have a good day.”

  She turned and walked out of the shop followed by Harvath, who didn’t take his eyes off the man until they were on the street.

  “What was all the passport stuff about?” asked Scot.

  “Remember when I said I hoped he would be able to tell us something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, just seeing his face told me a lot. He’s a dead ringer for Miner.”

  “What’s that got to do with his passport?”

  “Everything. Think about it. How closely do busy passport control officers study passports?”

  Scot remembered how he had been able to breeze through two different passport controls with his Hans Brauner papers. “I don’t know. It must vary.”

  “Well, think about a nicely dressed, middle-aged man on holiday.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t warrant too much scrutiny.”

  “Even if it did, Schroeppel so resembles Miner, I think he could pass the test.”

  “Let’s say you’re right. What does it mean?”

  “I think Miner bought his cousin a nice vacation, and all he had to do for it was be seen, get a passport stamped, and charge things on a credit card, all under the name of Gerhard Miner.”

  “But what does Miner get for all of this generosity?”

  “The most priceless thing of all, an almost airtight alibi.”

  “You’re right!” Scot finally grasped what Claudia was saying. “And Miner’s got one big problem now.”

  “Yes. The airtight alibi is starting to leak.”

  “A leak can be so drawn out and painful. Why don’t we see if we can help tear it open?”

  65

  Forty-five minutes after she left a message on his voice mail, Claudia’s cell phone rang.

  “Mueller,” she said.

  “Fräulein Mueller, what a delightful surprise it was to get your message,” said Gerhard Miner.

  “I doubt that.”

  “Why would you doubt that? I’m flattered to have the ardent attentions of such an attractive young woman.”

  “Well, then you won’t mind meeting me for lunch today.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m much too busy. We’ll do it soon, though.”

  “I think that would be a mistake.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I have some very special information I think you might be interested in.”

  “That’s hard to imagine.”

  “I can tell you, or the deputy federal attorney, or maybe even the press.”

  “Fräulein Mueller, I’m surprised you’re even free to walk the streets. Are you not being brought up on charges by the deputy federal attorney?”

  “Well, he’s funny like that. He doesn’t much care for anonymous tips. He says they”—Claudia shot a sideways glance at Scot—“He says they stink.”

  “Stink?” The Americanism was lost briefly on Miner.

  “Yes, he much prefers firsthand accounts of things. Eyewitness testimony is so much more powerful, especially in court. An anonymous tip versus, say, the testimony of a carpenter from Hochdorf, is so much more effective. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  There was absolute silence over the phone.

  “Herr Miner? Are you still there?”

  Quietly, Miner responded, “Yes. I’m still here.”

  “You haven’t called him back yet, have you? You figured his message wasn’t important enough. You’d wait until you felt like it to call him back. It’s funny, but I could almost hear his fingers dialing your number the minute I left his shop.”

  “What time?”

  “What time did I leave his shop?”

  “No, lunch. What time do you want to meet for lunch?”

  “I’m quite busy today. Being framed for a major weapons theft creates all sorts of demands. Let me look at my book. Can you hold?”

  Claudia held her hand over the mouthpiece and waited several moments. She hoped he was good and pissed off. She enjoyed being in control for once.

  “Yes, Herr Miner. Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s say three o’clock where we had our lovely lunch last time, the Hotel des Balances. I’ll see you at three.”

  Claudia punched the end button and severed the connection.

  66

  Setting the lunch appointment for three allowed Claudia and Scot plenty of time to surveil the Hotel des Balances and check for anything out of the ordinary. So far, it was clean.

  Claudia went in to get a table, and Scot stayed concealed in a shop across the courtyard from the hotel. From his vantage point, he would know if Miner came alone. Having already met the ringer of a cousin and knowing what kind of car Miner drove, it wasn’t hard to spot him when he pulled up.


  Miner got out of the black Audi and went into the hotel. Scot waited and, satisfied that he was alone, followed him inside. The hostess showed Scot to the table he had reserved earlier—not too close, but not too far away from the action if he was needed. Claudia and Miner were already deep in conversation when he passed.

  “…as lovely as ever, Fräulein Mueller.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I dispose of the pleasantries and get right to the point.”

  “Of course I will not forgive you. It isn’t every day I get to enjoy lunch with a woman as beautiful as you, and I intend to do just that,” said Miner as he called the waiter over. “Are you serving the roast duck today?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the waiter.

  “Good, that’s what I will have,” said Miner. “How about for you, Fräulein Mueller? Do you like duck? It’s quite good here.”

  “I’m more of a fish person.”

  “Excellent, then I highly recommend the lake trout caught right here in our very own lake. What do you say?”

  “Sounds fine to me,” said Claudia.

  “Wonderful. Now, what do Americans like to eat?”

  “Americans?” asked a startled Claudia. “What do you mean, what do they like to—”

  “Steak! That’s what they like,” said Miner, snapping his fingers, very pleased with himself. “And we’ll have a nice filet, medium-rare, for our friend.”

  “For your friend?” said the waiter.

  “Yes, he’ll be joining us in a minute. How about some wine, Fräulein Mueller?”

  It was their first lunch all over again. “I’ll be fine with a bottle of mineral water.”

  “Well, I hope I’m not being rude—you did after all invite me to lunch—but there’s nothing that complements a good meal better than a good bottle of wine. Let’s see, I’m having duck and certainly our American friend is a drinker—they all are, you know—and he’s having steak. Why don’t you bring us a nice Saint Emilion wine. The Chateau Quercy is quite good. I’m sure Fräulein Mueller is on an expense account, and I don’t want to get her in any more trouble with her superiors, so make it something at least seven years old, but not much more than that. Thank you.” The waiter smiled, took their menus, and walked off for the kitchen.